


A Taste of Red

by LittlePoison



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePoison/pseuds/LittlePoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb won the war and is reigning King of the North. Petyr Baelish, now of the King's small council, tells Robb that his bastard brother is on his way to Winterfell with an escort from the Night's Watch. Robb/Jon. Pretty fluffy. Gets very smutty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robb

A small council, they called themselves, and they were that. Only three people sat the twelve stone chairs surrounding the weirwood table. The war was won, the North was his, but King Robb had learned to move with trepidation. The Boltons had taught him that lesson with their treachery. _I can not afford to trust every ally_ , Robb reminded himself, _if there are only three people in this world I can rely on, then I will call them my council and thank the gods_.  
To the immediate left sat his mother. Grief had changed Catelyn Stark's features, Robb could remember a time when her watery blue eyes would shimmer in adoration for her children every day, but since Sansa was executed in King's Landing they watered only in sadness and worry. Her council was often a panicked plea for Robb to put his own safety before the lives of his subjects, nevertheless she was his mother, and he valued her opinion.  
Littlefinger was accepted into the council mostly be default. He was the man who had sent Catelyn a raven warning her and Robb not to attend the wedding of Edmure Tully and the Frey girl, at first Robb had assumed it a sad ploy to manipulate him into insulting Walder Frey's honour and thus cause a rift in his alliance with the house, but when Littlefinger arrived at Riverrun the next day on a boat he brought documents with him, letters to the Freys and the Boltons sent by Tywin Lannister.  
"Know what a man desires, and you know when not to trust him." Littlefinger had once said, and Robb thinks of it often.  
"I know what he desires Robb," his mother had said. "He desires to rule over the Dreadfort, and to have influence over the kingdom. Give him what he wants, and he will content himself with it. Keep these things from him, and somewhere along the line he will betray you."  
Robb did not doubt it, but as long as Baelish was kept happy he was a powerful ally, that could not be denied. He often gave the best council, and he had inside knowledge of the court of King's Landing.  
Maester Luwin had been like a grandfather to Robb for as long as he could remember. After Winterfell was declared the capital of the North, Luwin actively involved himself in political affairs, and it became quite clear that much of the Maester's Citadel education had been wasted in the hands of house Stark. He was welcomed into the Small Council with sincere gratitude.  
Today Luwin read out the status reports of ship construction with the loud commanding voice of renewed vigor, becoming involved in politics had been good for him.  
"...and you'll be pleased to hear that House has made good with their promise of ironwood, at last count we have enough for five new galleys, though it will be a long while before we can expect any more of that particular resource. Once, the ships are built, House Umber has agreed to resume supplying our wood."  
Silence washed over the Small Council. Petyr lazily thumbed his moustache, Catelyn looked meekly at the floor, and Luwin glanced expectantly between the other two council members and the King.  
"Well, if that is that." Robb nodded. "I believe we can call this meeting to a close. Thank you, Maester Luwin."  
"Of course Your Grace. Although, I believe Lord Baelish has a report of his own that he was going to bring to your attention."  
All eyes turned towards Littlefinger. "Oh," he said, as though only just remembering something. "Yes. If I may Your Grace, there is another matter of more... trivial importance."  
"Out with it Baelish." Robb instructed pointedly. Although he valued Littlefinger's services, he often grew weary of the man's roundabout way of speaking.  
"My scouts have spotted an escort from the Wall, they are coming to treat with you, almost certainly to ask you to send them more resources. I have also-"  
"Out of the question." Catelyn put in quickly. "We are stretched far too thin as it is, the North will not hold itself, and a new king must have a firm grip if he is to keep his crown."  
Maester Luwin sighed. "By all accounts, I have to say that any giving of resources to the Wall would put us in a dire predicament. However... I don't believe that any predicament is as dire as what is going on beyond that wall right now."  
"Maester Luwin, we have heard your uninformed opinions about the Others many times before," Catelyn sniffed. "But a king can not act on theories and speculation."  
"A king can speak for himself," Robb scolded. "I should hope you'd remember that."  
At that Catelyn returned to her meekness.  
"The Wall is part of the North, and we must protect it." Luwin urged.  
Petyr shrugged. "It can't be done. We don't have the gold. Let's not argue about this when there are other things to be discussed. Your Grace, if I had been allowed to finish my sentance earlier I'd have told you that your bastard brother was seen leading the escort."  
"Jon?" Robb gasped, and he felt his mother's lips tighten on her face. "He is the Lord Commander, he could not leave Castle Black."  
Petyr threw his hands up. "It seems he can."  
"A temporary Lord Commandor would take his place in his absence Your Grace," Luwin offered. "It is the way on the Wall."  
Robb did not know what to say. He never expected to see Jon again, especially after learning of his new office.  
"How long?" he asked.  
"A day," Petyr shrugged again. "Two."  
"Then we must be ready to treat him with the honour befitting his station. Have the guest chambers prepared."  
Catelyn scoffed. "Robb, we cannot agree to-"  
"We cannot agree, that I know. But he is still my brother, and I am happy just to hear of him again, Mother."  
_So happy it almost feels like sadness. What has the Wall done to him, I wonder. Will he still be the same brother who would climb the weirwoods with me? Who would help me play japes on Sansa? Will he be the same brother who would keep me warm in the cold Winterfell nights?_  
_No, I must not think that. His battles will have hardened him, I must expect a man as cold and unmoving as the Wall itself. I must expect that, or else my heart might break._


	2. Jon

_Did he put me here on purpose?_  
The walls of the guest chambers were unlike those in the rest of Winterfell. They were painted, for one thing. A vibrant red that had cured many a southron lord of their homesickness whilst visiting the cold, bleak North. For Jon the colour also had significance, whenever love danced her way into his life, red was the colour she wore.  
Red was the colour of Ghost's eyes, and the eyes of the weirwood trees that watched over him. Red was the hair of the wilding Ygritte, with her freckled breasts and moist womanhood, sometimes when Jon closed his eyes at night he was alone with her in the cave beyond the wall, letting her love him, and make a man out of him all over again. Most nights he agonized over a different memory however, one in which she played no part. She may have made a man out of him, but she was not the first to love him.  
The bed had been done up specially, with puffy yellow cushions on the sides and a long scarlet duvet. It was empty, but still Jon could see the two young boys frolicking beneath the sheets. Robb's laughter as Jon licked at his bellybutton was so loud that he had to stop and put a hand over his highborn-brother's mouth. Robb's hair had more red in it back then, and in the light of the guest room it caught fire. Jon and Robb went back to their kissing.  
 _This room... he must remember._  
It was the best place to sneak off to if they didn't want to be found, the guest chambers were left unattended for months on end if there were no visits from any other lords. Once the pair had fallen asleep together in the bed and woke up the next morning to a castle full of tens of fervent servants desperately searching for them, and one furious Ned Stark. The boys pretended that they had explored the village in the night but got lost. For that they had been spanked to blisters.  
 _He must remember... but what if he doesn't?_  
He was a king now, Jon had to remember that. He couldn't expect to find the same fiery-haired, hungry-mouthed lover that had held him and kissed him beneath the sheets.  
 _I must expect a man as cold and hard as the iron he wears on his crown. He remembered seeing Ygritte storming into Castle Black. Else my heart might break._


	3. Robb

The autumn leaves jumped from under his feet, brown and orange shreds flew high into the air as his four strong legs hammered down in their sprint. Overhead the sky ran with him, he could see clear blue skies sweep over in an instant by black, starry night, and then return just as quickly, with the sun arching back and forth from east to west.  
He dared not look behind him, for he knew the Ghost was hot on his trail. I am as strong and fast as him, he thought, there is no reason for me to be afraid. No reason to run. Yet run he did, because though they were both born of the same seed, his brother had the eyes of the weirwood, and he did not. _They frigthen me_ , he admitted to himself.  
An ice cold gust blew from ahead, and the days that flew by began to darken, with the stars twinkling out of the nights. Winter is coming. But it was not winter that killed the wolf. Strong white paws pressed down upon his shoulders, holding him to the ground, and before Robb could scream, the teeth were at his throat.  
He woke bathed in sweat, with his direwolf lay upon his chest. For a moment Robb held his neck, expecting the blood to gush forth, but Grey Wind's dark eyes stared inquisitively at his master, and it brought the King to sense.  
 _A dream_ , he nodded to himself. _A terrible dream._  
Robb took to the privy, but he could not relieve himself of the tight feeling in his chest. He had never had a nightmare quite like that. The heat drove me to it, the heat from Grey Wind. The duvets in Winterfell were thick and padded to counter the cold northern air. With a direwolf on top it's no wonder I had a bad night's sleep. The heat caused the dream, and the smell of Grey Wind's fur.  
Rationalising it made Robb feel a little better, but he knew that bad dreams were the least of his worries. In the morning he was to take audiance with Jon and the men of the Night's Watch, and he was to refuse their plea for help.   
_He won't understand. If he could sit at my council for one day then he'd see how little I have to spare, but he knows nothing of what it takes to rule a kingdom, and he won't understand. I cannot be soft when I sit my throne. If only I could take Jon aside and explain to him._ But that was unlikely, Jon was sure to leave as soon as his plea was refused, and he will make the plea first thing in the morning. There was no time to talk. _Unless I wake him now._ Robb pondered that for a while.  
 _What will he think? To be woken by me in those scarlet chambers. He might assume I... But I wouldn't, he is a man of the Night's Watch now. It would be a disgrace._  
Still the King found himself stalking through the stone corridors of Winterfell in the middle of the night. He had to see Jon, he had to explain.


	4. Jon

_He is my brother._ The Hunter thought, the autumn leaves cutting at his face. _He is man, and he is wolf, but I am neither, I am something more. I am the Children of the Forest, and I am the First Men. I am the Old Gods of the North, and I am the Dragons of Old Valyria. I am many people, but I am No-one. I am a Ghost, I am a Hunter, and my eyes see everything._  
The sky blinked rapidly between light and dark, with the sun and moon chasing each other in endless circles.  
_The man-wolf has betrayed me. I don't remember it, but I see it. Maybe it was in a distant past, or a distant future._  
The days went by for what must have been many months, until a cold wind blew down from the north and the man-wolf lost it's speed. The gap between the brothers thinned considerably, and when the opportune moment arrived the hunter took a great leap upon his prey and pinned him to the ground.  
The Hunter's teeth sunk into his kin's neck, and the taste of red was as sweet as summer.  
Jon woke to a dark unfamiliar room lit by a single candle, and a hunger for something he could not put his finger on.  
"Brother," he heard, and when he looked above the flame of the candle, he saw a King's face.  
"Robb!" Jon gasped. "I... I had a dream."  
"Dreams are dreams," Robb said with a strange tightness to his lips. "Was I in it?"  
Yes, he almost said, but when he thought on it the dream had been nonsensical, and didn't feature anyone that he knew.  
"No... No it didn't, not tonight."  
Robb set the candle by the bed and cleared his throat. "I am sorry to wake you, truly."  
"There is no need to apologize Your Grace," Jon tried his best not to sound too stiff. "This is your castle, your kingdom. Have I done anything to upset you?"  
Robb did not look pleased at the question. "I wish to speak with you about your reasons for being here."  
"I was told that I was granted an audience with you on the mo-"  
"Yes," Robb cut him off. "Yes, I will speak with you on the morrow, but I fear you will not like what I have to say."  
Jon had prepared himself for this. "You have not seen what I have seen Your Grace. Dark shapes twisting in the air and murdering good men with blades of effervescence, Wights riding atop dead horses, the bodies of the slain rising again as killing machines. The Others are real, and they're coming."  
Robb gazed into his eyes so steadily that Jon had to look away.  
"Winter is coming," Jon continued. "The words of your house, Your Grace."  
"Aye," Robb replied. "Winter is coming. I know nothing of Wights and Others, but I know that for a fact. I must protect my people Jon, and my kingdom is still a babe, you would not ask a mother to stop tending to her newborn."  
"No, but I would ask a brother to trust a brother."  
"I am glad to hear you remember that we are blood. When you addressed me as 'Your Grace' three times in the last minute it had me wondering."  
Jon frowned at that. "Is that why you refuse me? Is it resentment?"  
"Jon-"  
"You chose your path, brother, and I chose mine."  
"Aye, but you chose yours first. I became King because I was forced to act, you ran off to the Night's Watch for your own reasons. If you hadn't left me..."  
"I'm glad I did." Jon threw back the bed covers and stood up, naked as his nameday. Robb stepped back. "Because Westeros needs a hero, a hero to fight off the Others."  
Silence hung over the pair as Robb fought to keep his eyes forward. Jon saw the tightness return to the King's lips, and water gather in the corners of his eyes.  
"I don't want you to be a hero." He croaked. "I want you here, in Winterfell, in this castle... truth be told I want you in this bed. But I know that you'll only run away from me again."  
At that Jon softened despite himself. "Robb..." he said, reaching out a hand, which his brother took in a firm grip.  
"I could legitimize you, Jon. You could be a Stark, once and for all. A king has such power. The power to dismiss you from your Night's Watch duties."  
Anger pulsed through Jon Snow's veins. _How can you ask me to abandon my post? To abandon everything I believe in? You know me not at all. You know nothing._  
He wanted to say all of this, he wanted to pull his hand free and break his brother's nose. But when the candlelight hit Robb's hair in the right way he could see the red again, and this time it was not just the red, but the blue of his summer-sky eyes, the white of his ivory skin, and the pink of his puffy sweet lips. Before he knew it his mouth was on Robb, tasting every colour.  
The King returned his passion with equal measure, and Jon fell into a whirlwind of hunger and ecstasy. The taste of his brother's hot mouth reminded him of the taste at the end of his dream. An indescribabley sweet feeling that delivered one part satisfaction for every two parts desire.  
He could almost believe that it would never end, he could feel the days and nights sweep over the sky as they fell into eternity, but when he felt Robb pull away he came plummeting down from the heavens, and onto red linen sheets.  
He felt the sheets behind his head and Robb's thighs wrapped around his hips. His brother was fully dressed in royal silks whilst Jon's hard cock towered against his crotch.  
Robb threw off his heavy blue cloak and hastily unlaced his doublet whilst Jon's fingers felt up and down his buttocks. When the doublet was discarded, Robb's toned abdomen and only-slightly-hairy chest drove Jon to act in desire, he forced himself on top of the other man.  
The King squirmed and squealed as Jon teased his nipples between his teeth, licking them swiftly and pointedly, so that every lick sent a shudder of pleasure up Robb's neck.  
"You're stronger," Robb said between gasps. "Much stronger than when -ah!... When we last did this."  
Jon stopped teasing him to kiss his brother tenderly on the lips. "I might not let you go," he said, and began tugging at Robb's breaches.  
When the last bit of clothing was finally disrobed Jon pulled at the King 's legs and warmed his cock between the royal cheeks. Robb grabbed his arm.  
"Jon..." he panted, eyes glimmering with excitement but steady with hesitation.  
Tonight may not be the night. Jon had heard that the experience was three parts pain to one part pleasure, at least in the beginning. He had dreamt of going all the way with Robb, but mostly he was scared of hurting him, and after their row it was a risk he was not yet willing to take.  
Instead he grabbed the King by the back of the knees and pushed forward. "Your Grace," he said, curtsying down to devour his favourite meal. Robb squealed and convulsed as Jon's expert tongue ran in circles. _He was always far too loud. He should learn to contain himself._ Jon nearly laughed. _His slobbers turned to kisses. Sweet Robb._  
The kissing went on until Jon's cock felt as hard as the Wall that guarded the North. He kissed his way up past his brother's member, lingered around the bellybutton, gave courtesy to each nipple, and then settled on the neck, letting himself rest in the warmth of Robb's body for a little while.  
But only for a little while. Jon's cock was urging to be touched.  
Jon gave Robb a long, passionate kiss, and then stared into his eyes. "You'd let me pleasure you dusk till dawn if I was willing," he accused.  
Robb laughed. "If I commanded it, you'd have no choice."  
"I'm the Lord Commander," Jon sat up on his knees, pointing his cock into the other man's face and running his fingers through the King's beautiful red-brown curls.  
Robb grinned as he let his brother's cock rest upon his lips, he gave slow, teasing licks. He did not have Jon's expertise at tongueplay, but it felt good. Jon couldn't take it any longer, he grabbed on to the back of Robb's head and entered his hot, wet mouth by force. Robb was surprised, but he was not cowed. He sunk into it, filling his throat to capacity.  
Jon was eager, but kept his sense. He urged his hips backwards and fowards slowly, enjoying the sounds of his brother choking. Robb's beauty was not lost with a cock in his mouth, his plump pink lips looked even more beautiful wrapped around Jon's member. Jon pumped the King faster and faster, until his hips seemed to move on their own, and Robb's auburn curls bounced with velocity.  
The pleasure was indescribable, Jon heard himself practically screaming his love for Robb but he could not stop. His brother sucked and gagged and swallowed until Jon's body felt hot enough to shame wildfire.  
When the ecstasy hit it's peak, Jon gasped out "I love you," his eyes rolled back into his head, and a second later it was over.


	5. Robb

Robb nuzzled further into his brother's neck and sighed. "I cannot stay."  
Jon sighed back. "I know." His voice was startlingly fragile.  
Robb wanted to comfort him, he wanted to tell him that they won't ever have to be apart again, but if Jon was really going to choose the path of the Night's Watch then this was the last chance they'd have to hold each other. Robb's hand found Jon's and their fingers intertwined.  
"Your skin is warm," said Jon. "The things I have seen make my heart as heavy as the Wall, but with you I am as light as a feather. Yet... I cannot stay with you, knowing what I know."  
"If only you didn't know."  
Jon squeezed Robb's hand, and the two snuggled in silence for a few more minutes.  
"But, Jon..." Robb broke the silence as he absently stroked his brother's hair. "What if you had never learned of the land beyond the wall?"  
"... I did."  
"Yes, but... you were never supposed to leave Winterfell. You are a Stark, your place is here. It's all been one big mistake." He kissed Jon beneath the ear. "Mistakes are meant to be corrected. If I gave you the life you were always meant to have, that couldn't be wrong, could it?"  
Jon's eyes softened at that, he stared up at the ceiling as though seeing another world in the plain browned stone. "I suppose it wouldn't."  
_Thank the gods. He's listening to me. Oh, thank the gods._  
"We can live together again, with bedchambers painted in red and prettied up just like this one. I can raise you as a member of my small council and see you every day and every night."  
Jon smiled up at him, and as the tears welled in his eyes he turned his face to the pillows. Robb laughed jovially at his brother's sudden shyness. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? You and I together again... though we still needs must be careful, more so than ever before. This is not Essos, if they knew about us it would not be tolerated. But still... Jon, we will have each other, and that's all I want. I would trade my kingdom if I coulf spend the rest of my nights with you. I would. I would, Jon."  
The King's hands ran fervently up and down Jon's sides in his frivolity. The words came tumbling out as he fantasised about what the future could hold.  
"Once my new galley is made, let me take you to Sunspear. I remember you speaking of those palaces in this very bed, some ten years ago. Father had just given you a new illustration book for your nameday, and the artist's renditions were remarkable, you were glued to the pictures for weeks, but Sunspear was your favourite. Would you like to see the golden domes in real life? Would you like to make love beneath them? I know the Prince would welcome us, we are on good terms since the war. You would be an honoured guest alongside me.  
"We'll spend all day in our bed of golden silk, Jon, sipping on Dornish wine. And before night comes I'll take you out to the balcony and we'll watch the sunset rise over the Summer Sea. I've been to sea only once in my life, it was wild, and beautiful. I know that you would love it."  
Jon did not turn from his pillows. "Sweet Robb..." he spoke into the sheets. "I'd like to see that sunset."  
"You will. We'll sail to Dorne on a ship of Ironwood, Maester Luwin has-"  
"I can't."  
"What?"  
Only then did Robb peer over his brother's shoulder, and what he saw was the face of a man with a broken heart.  
"I can't." Jon insisted, tears falling silently from his eyes.  
"You can't?" _You must._ "Jon, I already told you. We'll go to Sunspear, you always wanted to see Sunspear." _He does not mean it. He is tired, emotional. He has already agreed._ "Perhaps... I have frightened you. I'm sorry Jon. My fancies took me in the excitement. We should be living in the moment." _Why isn't he saying anything? Why isn't he shutting me up?_ "We don't have to go to Sunspear. We can go anywhere. Or nowhere. We'll decide, we'll decide in time."  
Jon did not say a thing, but the unspoken words whispered in the air. They said, "I have already decided." Jon did not look at his brother, but shame was writ on his face.  
"You can't just leave me here, Jon, you can't just leave me."


	6. Jon

"It hasn't changed much," Jon remarked.  
Tormund nodded. "What are a few years to these old stone walls, when stacked upon thousands more?"  
The grey stones of Winterfell were warm, warm from the hot springs that lay beneath the castle, and warm from the memory of Jon's youth. It was hard not to feel at home in a place where you can recognize every crack in the walls, every thread of every tapestry.  
_I don't belong here though. I didn't belong as a boy, and I don't belong now._  
He had loved the castle he grew up in more than any of the trueborn Stark children. Even when he was thirteen, a man grown, he would hate it when his father made him leave to join the rangers at their watch. Eddard insisted that all Lords and Lordlings should spend time with those under his employ, and understand what a days work is for the less fortunate, but Jon hated to leave the warm embrace of Winterfell.  
_Why do I love it so? I have always known this is not my place. I am no true Stark._  
Tormund looked at him, and a flicker of pity flashed in his eyes. Jon realized that he had spoken his thoughts aloud.  
"It is because you do not belong that you grew so attached." He said simply.  
That made Jon think of Robb, which he had been trying not to do since the king had left his chambers weeping a couple hours ago.  
_Robb is Winterfell. Embracing me, loving me, making me feel... safe. But I belong in Robb's arms no more than I belong in Winterfell, and with every embrace I know that sooner or later it will have to end._  
_If only he understood... we were bastard and Stark, we would always have gone down separate paths. I could not bare to suffer him leaving me, so I left first._  
_Is that what I am doing now, too? Fleeing happiness in fear?_  
_... No, it is for Westeros._  
"But stay focused, Snow." Tormund finished. Jon realized that it had only been a heartbeat since the wilding had last spoke, but his mind was in such a frenzy that every heartbeat felt like a moon's turn.  
Time always passed slowly in the audience halls however. This was where those who wanted to speak before the court were made to wait their turn. There was no particular order, no way to know whether you were next. Jon had made sure he would be prepared... but the events of the night before had left him tired, miserable, and afraid.  
_Will I cry?_ He wondered. _I will not._ I cannot. But when he thought about looking into Robb's heartbroken face once more, he wished that he could.  
That thought summoned the guards, who escorted him into the court.  
He did not look Catelyn in the eye, but he did not have to see her to know that she wore a scowl. Jon kept focused on Robb, he did not want to arouse suspicion by appearing meek to his brother.  
Robb might have had the same thought. His crown was bronze, his throne was weirwood, but his eyes were iron. _I must look as angry as he does, but for him it is no act. He has reason to hate me._  
"Your Grace," Jon bowed, and before he could get another word out, his sweet mother-in-law cut him off.  
"The King has no time for this. Make your sorry proposal now, Snow, so we can send you home."  
She sat to Robb's left, with the other members of his small council. Maester Luwin sighed deeply, and Littlefinger, surprisingly, looked truly disgruntled by something. It made Jon very uncomfortable to see the man without a cocky smile on his lips. _I'd have sooner expected Lady Stark to be dressed in golden silks and dancing like a maid._  
_Jon saw no other option but to do what Catelyn suggested._  
"I have come as the Lord Commander of Castle Black to make a plea to the crown on behalf of the Night's Watch. The creatures beyond the wall grow restless-"  
"Grumpkins and snarks," Catelyn sniffed.  
"The Others overwhelm us with every encounter. We ask for you to send us your thieves and rapists, any criminals you can offer."  
"Which we have been doing." She sniffed again  
"And as much gold as you can spare."  
"Out of the question." Catelyn stood up at that. "The loyal crannogmen of the Neck need our gold to protect them from the Ironborn invasion. White Harbour needs our gold to rebuild, they still suffer greatly from the after-effects of Tywin's siege. There are ships to be built, laws to be enforced, rebellions to quell, and you ask us to give our coin to killers, rapists and wildings? This is a waste of the court's time."  
"I quite agree," Petyr added, still looking uncharacteristically sullen. "You assume the North to be more stable than it is, Snow, you know nothing of what it takes to hold a newborn kingdom."  
The king of said kingdom did not break his gaze with Jon, but raised a hand to silence the two overzealous members of his council.  
"Luwin," he said. "You have not spoke."  
_Neither have you._  
Maester Luwin stood up with a little difficulty, but he looked much fitter than Jon remembered him. "I fear my two fellow councilmen are fundamentally... correct, Your Grace." This one at least had the decency to look regretful at turning down the plea. "We will continue to send as many convicted men as we can, but at present this is all we can promise the Night's Watch. I sincerely hope that we will be in a position one day soon wherein we can be of more help to your fight against the Others."  
Petyr shook his head. "We don't even know if the Others exist."  
Yoren scowled. "Reports from the Night's-"  
"No. He's right, Luwin." Robb's voice cut in. "Reports prove nothing. When a man opens his mouth the truth is rarely what he speaks. The same is true of ravens and scrolls. I cannot afford to place my trust in men such as these."  
The knife that Jon had found stuck in his heart this morning began to twist.  
Catelyn smirked. "Lord Commander, you are dismissed. Gather your possessions and be gone."  
Yoren cleared his throat. "You are welcome here for seven days and seven nights, Lord Commander." He added.  
"That is the custom of the south, and the new gods." Lady Stark objected. "Jon will leave today."  
Jon's fingers curled into a fist. "I will not linger." He said, and exited for his guest chambers.  
There was not much to pack. Back when Jon had first arrived at Castle Black he decorated his quarters with things that reminded him of Winterfell. A weirwood-carving that Arya and Bran had made for him, a purple handkerchief Sansa had sewed together, and a useless, pointed stick that Rickon had offered when he learned that Jon was to leave.  
Now that he had returned to Winterfell, those things were left at Castle Black, and this room was decorated with things that reminded him of the Wall. A dragonglass dagger was concealed in the sewing of his cloak, and a book that Samwell had once given him rested by the bedside.  
As Jon pricked himself on the sharp point of Ygritte's arrow, the same arrow that had torn into his leg a long time ago, he wondered which castle was truly his home.  
_I must not wonder such things. I am a man of the Night's Watch. I have taken vows._  
You can't take back vows, but he had broken a few already, the arrow was a hard reminder of that.  
"A sorry sack of rubbish," Jon heard behind him as he filled the last of his possessions into the bag. "But you never appreciated fine items. Remember when I gave you my white rose the day you left for the wall? I found it in your room when you had gone. You were supposed to take it with you."  
I didn't want anything that reminded me of you.  
"It wouldn't have lived for very long." Jon replied. "I doubt it would have survived the journey."  
Robb frowned. "You should have taken it. It was cruel to leave it gathering dust. I didn't discover the floral corpse until months after you left, when I felt brave enough to enter your vacated room. My heart broke all over again."  
_I will not speak of all this. I will not think about it. Not until I am back at the Wall, and even then only as I lay in bed at night._  
Jon shoved past his brother, but a hand clasped his shoulder.  
"Jon wait. We need to talk, it will be quick."  
_Talking means thinking, and that is the one thing I can not do, not until I am back at the Wall._  
"I'm coming with you," his brother finished. "To Castle Black."  
That surprised Jon enough to elicit speech against his will. "What mummer's farce is this?" He asked.  
"It is not unheard of for a king to visit the Night's Watch, it has happened many times before."  
"In times of peace." Jon argued.  
"The war is ended," Robb said stubbornly. "Peace is in Westeros again."  
"You are a fool."  
"Why must you be like that? Why must you insist on us being apart? We are grown men now Jon, we answer to no-one."  
"You are the king. You answer to the realm, and the realm needs a strong hand to recover from the war."  
"You told me yourself that the Others need our attention!"  
"And your very council told me that the North is unstable."  
"You would have my resources, my gold, but you would not have me, is that it?" Robb looked close to tears, not at all the kingly man he had been in the court chambers. "I know you love me, Jon Snow. Why do you push me away?"  
_Because having you means losing you, and I cannot suffer such grief._  
"Because I am a man of the Night's Watch," he said instead, and freed himself from his brother's grasp.  
The next thing Jon knew, he was mounting his horse next to Tormund. _I will not think on it._ He dug his heels into his spurs. _I will not think._ But Robb's face was there everytime he closed his eyes.


	7. Robb

_Four months._ Robb knew it had been that long, because this was the fourth time he was visiting the red chambers since Jon had left.  
Four months, and already Robb hardly ever thought of Jon. He spent his days in Winterfell listening to envoys from other kingdoms and lords from his own, and even at night he guarded his dreams and thought of nothing but his duties. A king must be focused.  
But once a month, the King of the North visited a special room in his castle, and allowed himself to mourn the loss of his one true love for a single night.  
It was early evening and Robb had spent most of the day lulling around in bed. Nobody knew why he became lazy and sullen on the same date of every month, and his council was not shy to ask, especially his mother. _I do not want to hear her chastisement again._ Robb had thought as he robed himself in the scruffy rags he found in the servants quarters. He found that if he dressed poorly and kept his head down, men in the halls did not recognize him.  
Once he was safely incognito, the king scurried down the corridors, avoiding the eyes of all he came across.  
But when he opened the door to the guest chambers, a pair of piercing blue pupils stared back at him from inside. A man of fair hair, dressed in naught but his smallclothes.  
"Who are you?" Both demanded of each other at once. Robb saw a dangerous gleam in the other man's eyes.  
"I am King Robb Stark ser," he said haughtily. "And I will have your neck for my sword if you do not give good reason for being here."  
The man looked confused, outraged, and then he laughed.  
"Your Grace... I apologize." He said with far too much mirth. "I did not recognize you without your mummer's crown, and we have not met in years."  
Robb's eyes widened. He knew that voice. _Kingslayer._  
"Mummer's crown?" The King lifted his chin to meet the insult. "I see losing the war has not dulled your insolent tongue."  
Jaime smiled. "My sister remains in power, as does my... nephew. We lost nothing. You, however, seem to have lost your dignity. Is this how they dress their King in this shit-stained country? I can't say I'm surprised."  
Robb was growing angrier, he knew that if he tolerated anymore insults he may as well have his crown shipped to King's Landing and his manhood with it. He wanted to say something to wipe that smirk off Jaime's face, but wit was lost to him whilst confronted with such obscenity.  
"Rags are better than nothing at all. Cover yourself, Kingslayer."  
Jaime's skin was golden in the warm candlelight, his body was as muscled as a maiden's dream, and his smallclothes were cut to the very top of his thighs.  
"I apologize, Your Grace. I have a bath running. For a while now there has been an awful stink following me around."  
"Aye." Robb agreed. "Since the day you stabbed your king in the back and earned your name. Do you come here intending to live up to your reputation?"  
He laughed. "Be fair, Your Grace. You have me at a disadvantage. It would not be a fair fight, unless you slipped out of those rags."  
"I am not your sister to undress at your command." Robb threw back with a smirk of his own.  
"No. Unfortunately it is I who is at your command today, Your Grace. I am not foolhardy enough to presume to attack you in a castle full of your own loyal bannermen. There is no need to worry."  
"It is you who should worry. Your insolence will be met with consequences, if it continues. It is customary to kneel before a King."  
Jaime kneeled, but on two knees, not one.  
"Is this how you'd like me, Your Grace?" He asked, peering up at the King with eyes full of mischief. "I am not sure I'd be as skilled as you sweet half-brother, but as long as I am under your power, I must do what I am told."  
Robb almost tripped overhimself as he stumbled back. "Whatever jape you are playing Kingslayer, it will end now or I will have your head."  
Jaime remained on his knees. "A fortunate coincidence Your Grace, giving you head was just what I had in mind. Only, I hope you'll be courteous enough to return the favour."  
_He is disgusting._  
The King had half a mind to make good on his threat to meet the man's neck with his sword, but he would not threaten the realm's peace because of one man's stupidity, he was not Joffrey.  
All the same, he threatened the Kingslayer yet again. "Be careful or I will return the favour your son paid my father. Good day, my Lord."


	8. Jon

The winds of winter pinched his neck pink and ran icy fingers through his hair. The Seven still blessed Westeros with Autumn, which meant sufficient harvests and occasionally stormless seas, but this was the Land of Always Winter, and the only gods to be found here were the old ones, the gods made of weirwood.  
 _Is he warm? In his heated castle?_  
The stones of Winterfell lay atop bubbling hot springs, but there was nothing underneath Castle Black except more snow. A few hours ago he had been sitting miserably in his solar, but no matter how he arranged himself in his blankets he could feel a great chill. _I cannot escape the season. If it is cold, I might as well be ranging._  
The bark of the trees were white with ice and snow, and as Jon treaded past them a tightness formed in his stomach. _I must have taken leave of my senses, to come out here alone._ He knew that he was not in the mood to make company, but he also knew Others could be hiding behind any branch. _I have my obsidian daggers. That is all a man needs against those beasts._  
With every step the knot inside him wound a little tighter, until he found himself jumping at a crow cawing up a branch. Jon laughed at his own cowardice, and then, as he examined the bird, he noticed the tree it had perched on was white. Not brown-white, as the other trees were, but pure as snow, and with a single red leaf hanging beneath a pair of scraggly grey talons.  
Of course, there should have been nothing strange about a weirdwood tree growing beyond-the-wall, but it made Jon uneasy all the same. The crow cawed at him again, and then flew away.  
"He is speaking to you," a voice said, in a strange melody. "Do you hear his message?"  
The voice felt like it was coming from inside his own head, but when Jon looked down from the branch, he saw a monster all of wood, like a tree made flesh, with green leaves and vines wrapped around it's hips and limbs. It was crouched atop a rock, eyeing him with trepiedation. Jon drew his sword.  
"No," it said. She said. Now Jon could tell it was a... female. It had the right curves, and the voice was high and sweet.  
"Who... who are you?" he asked. _Am I talking to a monster or a maid?_  
"I am Leaf," she replied. "And I am here to guide you, you must not be afraid."  
"I have faced wights and wildlings and worse, I am not afraid." Jon insisted as his trembling sword hand betrayed him.  
"You must not be afraid," she repeated, her voice a soothing piece of music. "I am here to take you to your kin."  
He eyed her suspiciously. "My kin are back in Winterfell." _Even the dead ones._ Littlefinger brought Lord Eddard's bones with him on that fateful day, and they were buried in the crypts where they belong. Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon were never found, but they too had stone likenesses in the crypts, and that was where Jon believed their souls resided.  
"There is much you do not know, as is always the case with men." Jon thought he saw a hint of a smile on the creatures lips. "You call us the Children of the Forest, but it is you who are the children. You must not be afraid, Jon Snow. Come."  
She turned briskly to walk away, and Jon found himself following her. _Children of the Forest? Can it be?_ It was said that the children wore naught but vines and leaves, but every man knows that they have been gone from Westeros for many thousands of years. _The same is said of the Others, though, and I have stared into their icy blue eyes and known them to be real._  
 _Is this a dream? Like when I was a wolf, chasing Robb through the snow?_ In that dream the sky was flashing day and night. He looked up, but there were only still grey clouds, and when he looked down he was somewhere else.  
"We have arrived." Said the one called Leaf. She stood just ahead of him, at the bottom of a slope leading from a cave.  
"How far did we travel?" He could feel some sorcery at work. _I could not have been following her for more than a few minutes._   
Leaf only smiled at him in response, and then flitted off into the cave. Jon followed apprehensively.  
The caverns were narrow, sinuous, and lit an eerie blue by something unseen. He stalked the green-and-brown creature until he felt his foot catch on a gnarled root. _A tree? In here?_ Jon looked up, and a white, decrepit face stared back at him behind a tangle of white wood.  
"Jon... I've been waiting..."  
A voice. Not the voice of the terrifying face before him. Jon turned and saw a bedraggled young man laid against a rock.  
"Don't be scared... it's just me."  
 _Me? Who's Me?_ The voice had the flavour of the North, but it was not rough enough to belong to a wildling. He was sure that it was not a brother of the Night's Watch, and all whom he'd known at Winterfell were slain with the exception of Robb and Lady Catelyn. _Unless..._  
"Bran!" The word came out in a gasp, and a happy smile grew on the other boy's lips.  
"Brother," Bran said. "It is so good to speak to you. You do not know. My life here... I have been watching you. I have been watching Robb. It has not been-"  
He was cut off as Jon lifted him off the ground into an embrace. Bran laughed as Jon kissed him on the cheek. "You are not dead," the older brother sobbed, holding him by the waist.  
"I am not. I'm sorry, I wish I could've-"  
"How did you survive? Theon... we heard he..."  
"Put me down, brother. I have things I must tell you, and much more that I musn't tell you."  
Jon placed him back on the rock as he had been.  
"What is it about? The others, are they alive too? Sansa? Arya? Rickon?"  
"All dead." Bran said flatly, but not unkindly. "I didn't bring you here to talk about them. It's about Robb. You must know Jon... you must know that right now, though he does not know it, Robb is in serious danger. He may not survive the next few weeks."  
Jon blinked. "How do you know this?"  
"Sit." Bran commanded. "This will be a long story."  
A/N: Just a quick author's note here, hopefully it doesn't sit too awkwardly at the end of chapter eight. First I'd like to apologize for the long delay between chapters six and seven, I make no excuses, all I can say is I was overwhelmed by my university work at the time, but I must learn to juggle these things.   
Also, if you like this story, please review and comment! It gives me such a warm feeling in my heart, so just bloody do it, even if all you have to say is "I like your story." Any writer will tell you that positive feedback makes us want to get back to writing!   
Hope you _are_ all enjoying this, because we're not even halfway done, and there's a lot more smut to come! (And sooner than you think...)


	9. Robb

The autumn breeze tickled his skin and ran cool fingers through his hair. Robb had heard that the sun still shone bright and hot every day in the south, but this was not the land of the Seven, this was the North, and the old gods sent the cold winds to remind them of the Stark words. _Winter is coming._  
The godswood was protected from the worst of the cold, but Robb felt stiff enough to pose for a stone carving as he shifted nimbly through the leaves and brambles. _I must be swift, though. And I must keep him in my sights._  
Jaime Lannister walked hurriedly ahead, and Robb was confident that he had not seen him. The Kingslayer was buried beneath enough wolf-pelt to rival Grey-Wind. Robb felt rather like a direwolf in that moment, crouched in the bushes, staking his prey. He did not think himself so capable of stealth, but he knew the godswood better than anyone, and could move through the familiar woodland with ease.  
It had only been a few weeks since the Kingslayer had arrived at Winterfell as a diplomat from the south, but in those weeks Robb had grown increasingly suspicious. Jaime seemed to make a great deal of effort to involve himself in the King's affairs as much as possible. He showed up to every court hearing, made many appointments for audience, and even tried to shoulder into a small council meeting.  
And yet, whenever Robb summoned Jaime on a whim he seemed to have disappeared from the castle. Littlefinger, who was the Master of Whispers, informed the King that Jaime would visit the godswood plenty and often. _He is meeting people._ Robb thought. _A rebel alliance within my own employ. What other reason could he have for stalking out to such a place?_ Robb intended to see this meeting with his own eyes and get the measure of his enemies.  
For now though, he focused on the Kingslayer. The man walked with a clear sense of direction, he seemed to know exactly where was going. _If only I did too._ And with that thought, the golden-haired man wrapped in furs stepped into a heavy white mist and vanished amidst the haze.  
Robb panicked, mist was not a rarity in the North, he knew it could be quite an obstacle for wolves when chasing their kill. _My only hope is to enter. If I cannot see him within, he should not see me._ Robb walked ahead into the mist...  
And with the next step, he could see again. He could see the back of Jaime Lannister just ahead, and the greyish-blue water of the hot-spring underneath a small waterfall.  
_Steam, not mist. He has come to a hot-spring... but why?_  
As if to answer his question, Jaime shirked off the pelt around his neck and began to slip out of his heavy wolf-skin cloak. The Winterfell garb pooled on the floor below the naked figure of Jaime Lannister, still as bronzed as he had been under the sun of King's Landing. He shook and batted the wolf-hair from his body, and then dipped his foot in the steaming water.  
Robb was frozen to the spot, caught in a paralysis of three parts. The first was the heat coming from the spring, his skin ran with sweat and he itched to disrobe. The second was the fear of being discovered, he was standing in plain sight, all it took was for Jaime to turn around. The third... Robb did not want to think about the third, but Jaime's shoulders were toned as only a man of battle could be toned, and his backside was...  
_Fool! You must hide! Hide now!_  
"Your Grace."  
Robb's heart stopped, he whipped around to an unfamiliar face, and an unfamiliar bow.  
"I-I am sorry to intrude, Your Grace." The young lad looked frightened, he bowed again and scurried past.  
"Podrick!" Jaime called out with a smile, now submerged in the water up to his thighs. "And King Robb."  
"I am sorry I am late My Lord," Podrick apologised. He ran up to the Kingslayer with towels in his arms. "I got lost in the wood."  
"Worry not, I've only just gotten here myself." Jaime replied. "As has the King, I see. Thank you for the toweling Podrick, King Robb will thank you for it, he seems to have forgotten to bring his own."  
Podrick's eyes widened, and he looked between Robb and Jaime. "Will you be b-bathing with us, Your Grace? I did not bring enough towels."  
If he was stiff enough to pose for a stone carving before, now he was fit to become the stone carving. Robb was frozen to the spot, awkwardly staring ahead. _What have I gotten myself into?_  
"Of course His Grace will be bathing, Podrick. Why else would he be here?" Jaime smiled devillishly at Robb. "You will make your way back to the castle at once. It would not be fitting for a squire to bathe with a king."  
Podrick nodded, and with one more bow for Robb, scurried back into the wood.  
_A bath._ Robb felt a fool. _All of this sneaking around only to discover that Jaime Lannister has taken to the hot springs?_  
"You men of the North are lucky, Your Grace. There is no pleasure quite like this in the south." The Kingslayer sunk into the water up to his shoulders. "Will you be joining me?"  
Robb knew that there was only one answer to that question. He could not admit to stalking Jaime, therefore he had to pretend that he had come here to bathe.  
"Aye." The King said, unfastening his cloak.  
"Are you sure you Your Grace?" Jaime asked once Robb was fully undressed. "Perhaps it is too hot. Your face is red, and you've yet to step into the water."  
_He is lying. I am not flushing. I will not flush._  
"I am quite fine. I have bathed in these waters since I was a boy." Robb said, lowering himself into the spring, not too close to Jaime, but not too far. _I will not have him think I am scared._  
For a while there was nothing but the sounds of running water. The King scrubbed his arms relentlessly, though there was no dirt on them to speak off.  
"Do you mean to rub yourself to bloody blisters, Your Grace?" The other man asked. "You should move your focus lower, all that crawling around after me has caked your navel."  
Robb looked down to see that the Kingslayer was right, there was a hard mud encrusted over his stomach. He recalled a moment earlier where a thorn had caught his cloak and the surprise had made him trip over.  
_Is that when he saw me?_  
"Don't look so surprised. I heard you fumbling behind me as soon as I entered the godswood, but it is not my place to question you. You are my king."  
Robb scowled. "Joffrey is your King."  
"Not while I am in the north. Here, I bow to Robb Stark, and you wish is my command... I will even help you rub out that unsightly mess on your belly, if you allow me."  
Robb fought to keep a cool expression. _I will not be intimidated by his foolish games._ "You will do no such thing." He said simply, and then stood up to make his way to the small waterfall on the other end of the pool.  
There was nothing quite like standing beneath rushing warm water, and Robb would not let Jaime ruin the experience for him. He closed his eyes and put the Kingslayer out of his mind, absently scrubbing himself all over until his hands were wrinkled, his arms pinched pink, and only some of the dirt on his stomach remained.  
He began running his fingers through his sopping wet curls to clean them evenly, when suddenly he felt an unfamiliar, calloused hand hold him tightly by the hip, and a second hand rub itself flat around his navel.  
Robb froze. His father had once told him how rabbits often stood still when they knew they were about to be eaten by a predator, and now he could understand why. He knew something was happening that he could not fight, he'd known it ever since Jaime had first come to Winterfell.  
The Kingslayer's hand ran up his abdomen, around his chest, and even pinched one of his nipples. _Bastard,_ Robb thought. _Evil, perverted bastard._ He grabbed Jaime's hand and pulled it down to his cock.  
A wet, deft tongue worked intricately on the King's neck whilst the hand pumped his cock. Robb's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he shivered with pleasure. Underneath the rushing water, every stroke felt like a gift from the gods. Jaime's licks and kisses soon turned to a hungry slobbering, and Robb felt the man's thick member pressed against his backside.  
The ecstasy stopped abruptly as Jaime's hand stilled. Robb turned to him, furious, either because of what the Kingslayer did or because of what he stopped doing, he could not decide. "I am your king," he said, barely audible beneath the sounds of the waterfall.  
Jaime leaned into the King's ear. "And I will do as you command," he squeezed Robb's buttock. "But I hoped to take my pleasure as well."  
Robb slapped him. "You will take what I choose to give you Kingslayer." With those words Jaime was pushed onto his knees.  
The waterfall felt magnificent rushing over Robb's hard cock, but when the member was swallowed up by the blonde man's feverish mouth the King was taken to new realms of pleasure.  
He was not exactly skilled, after a few seconds Jaime had to stop to take a breath, which wasn't easy under the waterfall, but everytime he stopped Robb would grab him behind the ears and force his cock back down the Kingslayer's warm throat.  
_If this has to happen, it will happen my way._ Robb thought. _I am his king, he will not forget that._  
It wasn't long before he felt ready to spill his seed, but he knew that he must not give in so quickly, it would be a sign of weakness. Robb reluctantly pulled his cock out of Jaime's throat and lifted the man up by the arm.  
Jaime looked exhausted. "May we step out of the waterfall Your Grace?" He asked. "I wish to... catch my breath."  
"We may," Robb answered. "But catch your breath soon Kingslayer, I will need your mouth again."  
They waded to a shallower end of the pool, where Jaime revived his vigor, grabbing at the king's behind. Robb put an end to that with a stern look. "Do not presume to touch me unless told. It is not your hands I want from you now."  
Facing away from Jaime, the king got on all fours, with the surface of the water running along his shoulders, down his sides, and around his buttocks. "Put your quick-wit tongue to some better use, Kingslayer."  
Jaime did not need to be told twice. He buried his face between the King's pale cheeks and lapped hungrily at his wet pink hole. Robb worked his member under the water as he was serviced. Jaime was more skilled at this than he was at sucking cock. The pleasure was quite enough to drive a man mad.  
Robb knelt in bliss for what felt like an eternity, but he woke back to reality when he felt a small protrusion in his behind. Jaime had slid a finger inside. Robb wanted to tell him to stop, he didn't like where this was heading, he was the king, but all that came out of his mouths were whimpers and moans as the man's wet finger slipped in, and out, and further in. He even allowed a second finger, and eventually a third.  
Finally, he could take the teasing no longer. "Fuck me Kingslayer." He commanded. "Fuck your king or I'll have your head."  
"As you command Your Grace." Jaime replied, sliding his thick member slowly into the King's ass.  
Robb had felt someone fuck him before, but that was with Jon, his tender, loving half-brother. Jaime Lannister fucked like a dog. He was not gentle. He broke into Robb's ass without mercy, causing him to cry out in pain. An unaceptable way to treat your king. But in the next moment, all of Robb's anger was gone, Jaime's cock pumped hard and fast and sent lightning bolts of ecstasy through his body.  
The ecstasy was halted for a brief time when Jaime decided to flip the king over, Robb's legs rested against the man's shoulders as he looked into the Kingslayer's face. The man looked frenzied and brutish as he never had before, sweat glistened over his body and he had a wild look in his eyes as he resumed fucking the younger man.  
"Your grace!"  
A voice bellowed from behind. A voice of shock, and of fear.  
Robb's heart stopped for what felt like an eternity, and then he bent his neck to see two upside-down male figures having just emerged from the trees.  
Littlefinger was holding Maester Luwin by the arm, helping the frail old man stay upright. Petyr Baelish also wore the face of a man in shock, but for a moment, Robb swore he saw those thin lips curl into a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again sorry for the wait. I found this chapter particularly difficult to write. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


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